Over south and east a thin blue film of smoke rose up straight
from the dark forest.
"That's for you, I think. Your friend, the Onondaga, is signaling you;
he knows the end of the story."
Taking hands, the children ran straight in the direction of the smoke
signal, along the trail which opened before them.
[Illustration]
X
THE MAKING OF A SHAMAN: A TELLING OF THE IROQUOIS TRAIL, BY THE ONONDAGA
Down the Mound-Builder's graded way the children ran looking for the
Onondaga. Like all the trail in the Museum Country it covered a vast
tract of country in a very little while, so that it was no time at all
before they came out among high, pine-covered swells, that broke along
the watercourses into knuckly granite headlands. From one of these,
steady puffs of smoke arose, and a moment later they could make out the
figure of an Indian turning his head from side to side as he searched
the surrounding country with the look of eagles. They knew him at once,
by the Medicine bundle at his belt and the slanting Iroquois feather,
for their friend the Onondaga.
"I was looking for you by the lake shore trail," he explained as Oliver
and Dorcas Jane climbed up to him.
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